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Walt Whitman · Leaves of Grass

Poem 8 of 382 · Inscriptions

For Him I Sing

— ✻ —

For him I sing,
I raise the present on the past,
(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)
With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws,
To make himself by them the law unto himself.

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